The leaves rustled under the command
Of a known stranger,
The one who lashed the roads,
And drove away a cloud of dust,
Baring them to his harshness,
And paid a tribute to the Night’s delineation
Of an upheaval in tranquility.
The sores on the exterior vanished
Before moisture could sympathize.
The catastrophe building up inside,
Far away from Sympathy,
Sought help from Empathy,
To which it’s access was denied.
A storm broke out in no time,
The dark Kohl lining agreed to succumb
To the rush of brine.